


regrets are like wishes (just not as pretty)

by snarkymuch



Series: Broken Wings [10]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wings, And he feels awful about it, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bigotry & Prejudice, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Tony Stark Coparenting Peter Parker, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Snaps and Hurts Someone, Peter needs surgery on his wing, Protective Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23070751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkymuch/pseuds/snarkymuch
Summary: *You should read the first in the series to understand, but basically, wings can be hidden and there is prejudice against black wings like Peter has*Peter stops some men from attacking a raven, only to get dragged into a fight with them. He loses control, nearly killing a man. A gun goes off and Peter is shot in the wing. Lots of Irondad moments follow.Wingfic AU
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Broken Wings [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1588876
Comments: 45
Kudos: 342





	regrets are like wishes (just not as pretty)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys. Sorry it took me a bit to get to another of these. I wrote most of this today. I think it came out pretty good. It sure has a lot of hurt/comfort in it. Peter does kinda lose his cool in this and nearly kills someone, so sorry in advance. Anyway, hope you like!

It had been months since Peter had revealed his wings as Spider-Man, and so far, things had been going well. He expected more of a fallout. But for the most part, people didn’t seem to mind. At first, they were a little hesitant to accept his help, but soon enough, things slipped back into a normal routine. He went to school, came home, and patrolled. Everything was good. Until the random Thursday that changed it all. You never could trust a Thursday.

Peter had just gotten out of school and was hiding in an alley, changing into his suit. With his fifth backpack of the year securely webbed in place, Peter flipped over the chainlink fence by the dumpster and shot up the wall. Once he got to the roof, he checked in with Karen and let his gaze roam over the city. Feeling pretty good, he dove off the building, shooting out a web and catching the next, swinging low past the traffic and making his way toward Delmar’s. He hadn’t had lunch yet, and he was starving.

There was nothing about the day to warn him how badly things would go.

The sun was starting to set, and it was getting dark. The area was a little secluded, and there weren’t many people around, and those that were had their heads down, trying not to draw attention to themselves.

He got his sandwich, squished down extra flat, and made his way up to a fire escape to eat. On the way, though, something caught his attention. There was a group of gruff looking men, maybe construction workers off the job, standing around someone. Peter couldn’t see who. 

Peter webbed his sandwich against the edge of a roof and swung closer, checking in with Karen about what could be going on.

“I think they intend to hurt the man in the middle. You should get closer and investigate.”

He crawled down the rough brick of the building above them, listening to the men.

“I thought I told you to stay away from this street,” the bigger guy said, head tilted to the side as he stepped closer to the man in the middle of the group. Peter knew this wasn’t going to be pretty if he didn’t intervene soon. “Maybe we should clip those wings of yours.”

One of the guys had a knife, the blade catching the light. A few things happened at once. The man in the middle who was being harassed, his wings appeared, black and lifting in defense. Peter dropped to the ground as he webbed the knife, yanking it free from his grasp and sticking it to the wall. The men all turned at his arrival, and the man they’d had cornered took their distraction as his chance to escape.

“What do we have here, Carl? Looks like the raven we’ve all been hearing about has decided to grace us with his presence,” the big guy said. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun, aiming it at Peter.

His skin prickled, and he could feel the adrenaline pumping into his veins, preparing him to fight. His wings dropped onto his back without thought, his fight or flight engaging. The appearance of his wings only seemed to egg the men on, though, causing them to laugh in a very unfriendly way.

He wasn’t scared, though, not for himself. These men were willingly hurting ravens, scaring them, and cornering them. He thought of Morgan and her smile, the way she shook her wings as she wiggled to music. Then he imagined her there, being chased and corralled and afraid, and something in Peter snapped. He couldn’t let her be hurt. Some people just weren’t worth a second chance—at least that was what it felt like to him.

“You really don’t want to do this.” Peter’s voice was like ice cutting the air, his fingers itching to snap out a web. “What you were doing—not cool, man.”

The shorter bald man stepped closer. “Don’t you think you’re bringing more trouble with you than you’re solving?”

Peter kept an eye on the gun, his spidey sense a constant hum. His wings fluttered behind him. None of the men had theirs out. They weren’t afraid. The image of Morgan being hurt for her wings haunted his mind, making him clench his jaw.

“Don’t have much to say for yourself, do you?” the guy with the gun said, lips curling in a twisted smile. His finger was on the trigger, and Peter swore he saw it twitch. He wasn’t scared, though. He was ready to fight. He wanted to make them hurt, to make them know what it was like.

“You don’t want to do this,” Peter warned again. His wings twitched on his back. He hadn’t practiced fighting with them out. “I haven’t done anything to you. Would you really kill an innocent guy?”

He knew the answer. Of course, they would.

“I lost my daughter to a raven.”

“And I’m really sorry about that, but what you’re doing—it isn’t right. Where do you draw the line? Would you hurt a baby just because of their wings?”

“Maybe, yeah, maybe I would,” the guy said, adjusting his grip on the gun. “Ravens group in families, don’t they? You got a little brother at home? Scared what I might do to them?”

“Shut up!”

“Oh, I’ve hit a nerve,” the man laughed. “Or maybe it’s a sister? I should save the city the trouble and end you, right here and now, then find that sister or brother of yours.” The feral look in the man’s eyes told Peter that he meant every word.

His words confirmed what Peter felt, and he saw red. His senses screamed for him to move just as he watched the man’s finger twitch on the trigger. Trusting his body, he dove to the side and sent a web for the gun. 

As he pulled it free from the man’s hand, there was a crack, and Peter felt something sting his wing. A bolt of pain shot down the bone from the elbow joint straight to his shoulder blade. The adrenaline made it fade fast, though, as he still had three men to deal with.

He dodged the shorter of the men while webbing his feet to the ground and then moving onto the next. He just managed to web the second to the wall when the largest, the man who’d had the gun, charged him. 

Peter barely thought of his strength when he threw the first punch, knocking him back. His jaw made a sickening crack, and blood splattered from his mouth, but it only seemed to anger the man more. He charged at Peter, trying to get his arms around him, but it only gave Peter another chance to attack. Thinking of Morgan, and what the man wanted to do, Peter lost himself to his anger, reaching around and grabbing the man’s arm, breaking it with a snap.

Peter’s wing hung loose, blood dripping through the fight. Karen was saying something, telling him the police were on the way, but he was focused on the man who’d become a scapegoat for all his anger.

The guy got a lucky grab on Peter’s injured wing, the pain making his knees buckle as he growled against it. Blood dribbled down his shoulder and arm, leaving smears of blood on the man as they fought. Peter could have ended it at any point, but he wanted to make the man pay, make him regret ever touching a raven.

Sirens pulled him from his haze just as he landed another punch, breaking ribs.

“Peter, he can’t survive many more blows,” Karen was in his ear, speaking calmly. “I’ve alerted Mr. Stark, and he’s on the way. ETA five minutes.”

He blinked, looking down at the bloody pulp of a man on the ground, and his stomach twisted. He looked at his hands, seeing the blood and realizing it wasn’t all his own. What had he done?

The flashing of police lights made him move. He needed to get out of there. Making sure the men were secure, Peter scurried up the wall, his wing hanging uselessly behind him.

Red warnings blinked on the HUD, and he tried to ignore it, but he could see his pulse and blood pressure were both off. Reaching back, he felt his wing, his fingers brushed over the top of the damp feathers, coming away soaked in blood. 

He could smell the copper in the air. At least the warnings made sense now. He distantly heard Karen speaking beneath the rushing in his ears. He couldn’t focus, though. He’d almost killed a man with his bare hands. He squeezed his eyes shut and stumbled a few steps forward, listing to the side.

* * *

Tony kept an eye on the corner of his HUD, where footage from Peter’s suit was being displayed as he flew toward Queens. His vitals were displayed, too, and Tony didn’t like what he was seeing. The kid was clearly hit, and Tony’s heart was racing as he thought about how bad. From the look of the footage and what Karen reported, he’d been shot in the wing.

He was both relieved and concerned in equal parts. It wasn’t somewhere deadly, but wings were fickle things, and a bullet, if it hit the right place, could cause a lot of damage. He’d seen some of the vets come home with lame wings, some that needed to be amputated or kept in permanent support slings.

Tony couldn’t shake what he’d seen on the screen. Peter had nearly killed the other man, completely lost in the moment. He knew wherever Peter was right now, that he was likely falling apart at the seams. Peter felt with all his heart, and once the anger faded, Tony knew he would be swimming in shame and regret for nearly killing the man, despite how much Tony thought he deserved some of that wrath.

The flight to Queens felt hours long when, in reality, it was only minutes, but in that time, his mind had the chance to churn over what had happened. He knew that prejudice existed, he’d seen the news, but it was another thing to have it touch so close to his life, to the people he cared about.

He could understand why Peter had reacted the way he had, but it didn’t mean it was right. The last thing Tony wanted was for the hate of the world to change who Peter was. He was too young to already be hardened by the harsh edges of society.

He approached the rooftop that Peter was on, slowing and landing behind him. Tony’s heart broke at the sight. Peter was sitting on the roof, knees drawn up, and head buried in his arms. His wings were out, one in resting position and the other lying at an odd angle on his back, feathers looking matted by what Tony assumed was blood.

His suit melted around himself and approached slowly, not wanting to startle him and jostle his wing.

“Pete? You okay there, bud?” He kept his voice light, despite his rising panic at seeing the blood soaking Peter’s arm. The kid buried his head deeper into his knees, and his fingers gripped his hair, tugging at the roots. Tony crouched beside him, hand hovering over Peter’s but not touching. “Kiddo, I know you can hear me. I’m not mad, okay? I know what happened, and I’m not mad. I need you to know that.”

A whine came from Peter, something close to a keen, then his body shook. Tony realized he was crying, and it broke him a little more, his own throat getting tight with emotion.

“Peter, you with me?” he asked, kneeling on the hard roof as he gently touched a hand to Peter’s wrist. The kid’s fingers were tightly wound in his hair, and it looked painful. Tony let his thumb stroke back and forth. The blood on his skin was dried and didn’t smudge. Tony sighed, not sure what to do, but he needed to do something. He had to get Peter out of there and to medical attention; anything else could wait. “Friday? How far out is Happy?”

He’d called the man before leaving in case he’d need him. Thankfully, Happy was in the city, working on some security at the tower.

“He should be there any minute, boss. I’ve taken the liberty of sending a report ahead to the tower and having Doctor Cho alerted.”

“You’re the best, girl.”

Tony looked back at Peter. He could hear the kid’s wet breaths, each congested sob as he processed what had happened. Licking his lips, Tony settled his other hand on Peter’s knee and addressed him again.

“Peter, I know you’re not okay, but we need to get you looked at. Did you hear Friday? Happy’s on the way. Then we can get blow this popsicle stand. I’ll even let you make that gummy bear waffle creation you’ve been wanting to try.” He kept his voice light, trying to cheer him up, but it fell flat.

Sniffling, Peter lifter his head, his eyes red and puffy, tears staining his cheeks. He blinked a few times, sucking in a stuttered breath, his hands going to his knees in front of him. “I shouldn’t—how can you stand being near me? I almost killed him, Mr. Stark!”

Tony pressed his lips together, watching Peter, who turned his head, looking away. His hands were in fists, knuckles white from the force.

“But you didn’t, Peter. You didn’t kill him. You stopped. That’s what matters.”

Peter’s head snapped back to him. “Only because Karen snapped me out of it. If it wasn’t for her …” He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. When he looked back at Tony, the pain and desperation were evident in his eyes. “Right then, in the moment, I could only think of Morgan—what would happen to her. I just wanted him to hurt—to pay. What kind of monster does that make me?”

“It doesn’t make you a monster. It makes you human. So you lost your grip? I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing in your shoes. I know I would have.” Tony’s gaze slipped to Peter’s injured wing, and he sighed. “You can’t let their hate change you. Am I proud of you for what you did? No, because I know you can be better, but I’m not angry either because I understand why you did it.”

Peter wiped his eyes, sniffling against the sleeve of his suit. “What’s gonna happen now?”

“Well, to start, we’re gonna sneak you off this roof and into the car. Then we’re gonna get Cho to look at your wing, and then I don’t know. I’m up for suggestions. The tower kitchen is still stocked.”

Peter nodded, grabbing his mask from the ground. “Okay, I think that sounds good. I can do that.”

Tony stood, his knees protesting loudly as they popped and cracked. Carefully he got an arm under Peter’s and helped him to his feet. He swayed, and his wing was dropping so severely it was brushing the dirty gravel of the roof. Like a painter’s brush, the blood-soaked feathers left smears wherever they touched. Tony didn’t want to think about how much blood Peter had lost. The bullet must have nicked something to bleed like that, though it looked to have mostly stopped.

Peter pulled on his mask and turned to Tony. “Getting shot is a total zero out of ten. Do not recommend.”

Tony huffed. “Yeah, getting a call from my kid’s AI that he’s been shot is also a zero out of ten. Do not recommend. I have a heart condition, remember? What doesn’t kill me is definitely turning me gray.”

Peter stumbled, and Tony caught him. “Okay, I can’t carry you with your wing like that, so we’re gonna need to walk you down.”

“I can crawl down the building.”

“Yeah, and how about no on that? There’s no crawling for the spider-baby when he’s liable to fall and break his other wing, or worse, his neck.”

“So we’re just gonna walk down? You don’t think the people who live here might find that weird?”

Tony pursed his lips. “Okay, you got a point. You can stand, right? I got an idea. Let me get my suit on.”

He tapped the housing unit, and the nanites crawled over his skin. Once he was covered, he walked over to Peter. “Stand on my feet, and I’ll wrap my arms around you. It’s still gonna hurt like a bitch, but it’ll get you off the roof.”

“What about the police?” Peter asked, looking over towards the alley. “I don’t think they should see me after—you know.”

“Friday, have Happy meet us around back. Don’t worry, kid. I got us covered.”

* * *

The ride to the back lot of the building jostled Peter’s wing, but he bit back the urge to whimper. He was lightheaded already and having trouble keeping his balance. He didn’t want to worry Tony even more.

Happy was pulling around when they landed, and Tony helped Peter slide into the car, careful of his wing. He had to sit sideways, nearly facing the back, so his injured wing could lay stretched out. Peter cringed when he thought of the blood he was probably getting on the upholstery. Tony climbed in the front, but Peter could feel the man’s eyes on him.

“How you doing, Pete?” Tony asked a few minutes into the ride.

“I’m—I’m good. Really, it’s not so bad.” Peter wasn’t sure why he lied, maybe he was trying to convince himself that things weren’t as screwed up as they really were.

The car hit a bump that jostled his wing. He didn’t succeed in holding back a pained noise that time. Tony must have heard him because he sighed. The rest of the trip was quiet except for a few whimpers from Peter. He wished he could zone out, forget about what happened, but it was all too fresh. Every time Peter tried closing his eyes, he’d see the man lying on the ground, his own fists covered in blood.

The light shifted, and the sounds of the city became muted. Peter looked out the back window to see that they’d pulled into the underground garage. Once the car was parked, Tony came around to help Peter get out. Happy was there, too, looking concerned.

“Getting you in was one thing, getting you out might be a bit trickier. Hap, go around the other side and stabilize his wing. Friday, get Cho down her with some help and a stretcher.”

A shiver passed through Peter. He felt cold and realized that he was probably going into shock or the adrenaline was wearing off—or both. He had his mask clutched in his hands as he took sips of stale air through his mouth.

A few minutes later, footsteps and voices approached. One that he recognized as Doctor Cho. She’d seen him before for Spider-Man related things. Tony had given her research space in the tower, and in exchange, she stayed close in case Peter needed medical.

“Tony,” Doctor Cho greeted. “I need to get in there and see what we’re dealing with.”

Peter’s eyes drifted closed, and he felt the car shift slightly, and then he could smell the doctor’s perfume.

“Peter, I’m just going to touch your wing, okay? I’ll be as gentle as I can be.”

He grunted his agreement and rested his forehead against the leather seat. Then her hands were on him, sending sparks of pain through his wing as she touched where the bullet had hit. She hummed to herself and then slipped back out of the car. Peter heard Tony address her.

“How is he?”

“It’s through and through, but I’m worried it might have clipped the bone. There could be splintering. The good news is the bleeding has stopped.”

“We just need to move him without making it worse,” Tony said.

“Exactly,” she agreed. “He’s okay for the moment, but I don’t like his color. The sooner we get him up to medbay, the better.”

The car jiggled a little as Tony slid in next to him. “Hey, kid, we need to move you, okay? It’s not gonna feel that great, but we’ll make it fast. Don’t try to help. Let us do the work.”

Peter lifted his head, feeling nauseous. He licked his lips. “I don’t feel good.”

“I know, kiddo. It won’t be much longer.”

Peter tried to answer, but the dizziness was getting too much, and he closed his eyes again.

* * *

It took some work, but they were able to get Peter out of the backseat and onto a stretcher, wing supported by a strap on his back. The kid was in and out of it. Cho said he’d lost a lot of blood and was going into shock.

Once Peter was wheeled into one of the rooms in medbay, Tony pulled his phone out of his pocket, thumb hovering over the screen. He needed to call Peter’s aunt, but it was never easy to tell someone that their kid had been shot. He was dreading it. He also needed to call Pepper and update her, though Friday was likely keeping her up to date.

He made the call to May, stomach somewhere near his feet as the phone waited to connect. She was at work and might not be able to answer straight away. On the fourth ring, she picked up, concern already lacing her tone.

“Tony, what’s wrong? You never call unless something’s happened.”

Tony wanted to argue that point, but now wasn’t the time. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. When he dropped his hand, he saw Peter’s blood staining his fingers, and his stomach turned. “He’s alive. He’s not in danger, but he was hurt.”

“What happened? Do I need to leave work? I can go find my supervisor.”

“No, I think it’s fine. He’s out like a light right now anyway.”

“Stark, what happened to my kid.”

Tony glanced at the door that Cho had wheeled Peter through. “He was shot in the wing, but—”

“Oh my god! Is he okay?”

“Take a breath,” Tony said, hearing the way May’s control was slipping. “He’s with the doctor now. I think he’s pretty lucky. It could have been a lot worse. I think he’ll be in a brace and sling for a week or so, but it should heal okay.”

He heard May sigh. “Every time he goes out there, I’m scared I’m gonna lose him.”

“I know what you mean,” Tony agreed. “I built him a suit to keep him safe, and he still gets shot.”

“There’s only so much we can do to protect him,” she said. It was quiet for a moment before she spoke again. “Are you sure he’s okay? You don’t need me to leave?”

“Just head here after your shift. He should be fine until then. I’ll take care of him.”

“Okay, I’m trusting you, Stark.”

They disconnected, and Tony sent a text off to Pepper, letting her know Peter was okay and that they were at the tower. He plopped down in one of the plastic chairs, resting his elbows on his knees. He clutched his phone between his hands and hung his head. Peter’s blood was dried around his nails, bringing back the details of what had happened all too well. He needed to wash his hands.

After a while, Happy came in with a coffee and nudged Tony into taking it. He didn’t realize his hands were shaking until he tried to bring the cup to his lips. A little of the lukewarm liquid spilled onto his hands and dripped off his wrist. The coffee was too sweet and tasted burnt, but it was something to do. He felt useless.

He thought about what had happened. He remembered the hate in the man’s voice as he spoke to Peter, the look in his eyes. It was so different seeing the hatred and bigotry up close and personal. Sure, he’d donated to charities, but it never connected, not until tonight. It had touched someone close, someone he loved, and it scared him, not just for Peter, but for his daughter, who was just starting out in the world. What kinds of hate and prejudice would she face? He needed to do more to change things. He couldn’t be idle any longer. He had to protect his family.

Tony lost track of time. It felt like hours had passed, but it had probably been closer to only one. Footsteps made Tony look up, and Helen was stepping in through the door, her blue scrubs had a few stains of blood. Tony stood, clenching his phone in his hand.

“How is he?”

She sighed. “The bullet nicked an artery, but his healing factor seemed to clot it fairly fast. He didn’t lose as much as I thought. The bone near the elbow of his wing was shattered. It’s a good thing we engineered an anesthetic that worked with his metabolism as I needed to operate. He’s got some pins in place that will need to be removed, but as long as he follows orders, he should regain full motion.”

Tony raked a hand through his hair, nodding a few times quickly. “Yeah, that’s good. Well, not good, but good that he’s going to be okay. His aunt’s going to kill me. I told her it wasn’t that bad.”

“He’s fortunate. Had the bullet hit squarely in the joint, he could have lost motion of his wing.”

Tony nodded again. “Can I see him?”

“Of course, follow me. He’s still out but should be waking soon.”

Peter was in one of the recovery suites that they thankfully rarely needed. Actually, until tonight, it had been used mostly for storage. The kid was lying on his side, his wing wrapped and in a brace. Tony could see the edges of metal beneath the bandages. He looked so pale he was practically translucent. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his lips were parted, skin looking dry and cracked. Tony stood frozen for a moment, his heart clenched in his chest. He hated seeing him in pain.

He grabbed one of the chairs and dragged it closer to the bed, taking a seat. He reached up, sliding Peter’s hand into his own and letting the warmth of his skin remind him that Peter was alive. He was going to be okay. He didn’t know how much time he spent sitting there, watching Peter breathe, but eventually, the kid’s eyelids began to flutter, and his brow scrunched in pain.

“Easy, kiddo.” Tony kept his voice low, running his thumb over Peter’s knuckles. “There you go. Nice and easy.” Peter’s eyes blinked open and looked around a little before his eyes focused on Tony. “There you are.”

Peter licked his lips and shifted his shoulder, making himself wince. “I feel weird.”

Tony forced a smile. “That would be the drugs.”

Peter blinked slowly, eyes lingering closed for a moment. When he opened them, he looked a little clearer. “That really sucked.”

“Still a zero out of ten?”

Peter hummed his agreement, cautiously moving his arm. “Is my wing—it’s gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, you were lucky, but as long as you listen to me and stay on the couch, it should heal just fine.”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem. All I want to do is sleep.”

“Then get some rest, kiddo. I’ll be here when you wake.”

Peter’s eyes drifted closed, and he was out in seconds. Tony did his best to get comfortable and closed his eyes, too. They both slept.

When Tony woke, it was to a litany of quiet curses. His eyes popped open, and he saw Peter trying to leverage himself up in the bed, his IV tangled and nearly pulling out of his hand. Tony jumped up and pushed him by the shoulders to settle back on the bed.

Peter had the decency to look sheepish. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s a good thing you did. You were about to pull your IV out, and god only knows what you were thinking moving around like that. Pins are holding your bone together, Peter. That’s not something you mess around with.”

“Oh, I guess I missed that part.”

Tony untangled the IV. “You were pretty out of it. We didn’t get much of a chance to get into details.” With his IV situated, Tony scrubbed a hand over his mouth. “How’s the pain?”

“It’s not too bad,” Peter said. Tony raised a questioning brow. “Really, I feel pretty good.”

“Alright, but if that changes, let me know.” Tony sat back down in his chair. Drawing a breath, he thought over everything that had happened. There was so much to say, but he didn’t know where to start. “Other than the being shot, how are you? What happened back there isn’t something you just get over.”

The corners of Peter’s mouth twitched downward. “I’m fine.”

“Try again, kiddo. A guy shot you because you’re a raven, and you really lost your cool, kid. I’m worried the guilt is eating you up.”

Peter didn’t seem to be looking at him. It was like he was looking at something not in the room. His lips thinned, and his fists clenched the sheets.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not mad. I told you before I’m not upset.”

Peter’s gaze snapped to him. “I almost killed him. I felt his bones break, and I didn’t care. I didn’t—I couldn’t stop. All I could think about was him hurting Morgan.”

“Sure, it wasn’t great what you did, but you were scared and thinking about your sister, and when Karen told you to stop, you did. You didn’t kill him, Peter, so don’t blame yourself like you did.”

“I could have, though.”

“Yes, you could have, but you stopped because you’re a good person. You aren’t evil, Peter. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but we’re gonna find a way to make things better, and even if we can’t, I’ve always got your back.”

Peter sniffled, nodding his head. “Yeah, I guess.”

“No guessing about it. It’s a fact. I will always watch out for my kids.”

“Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

The kid’s head sank into the pillow. Tony could see how drained he still was.

“You look like shit, kid. Why don’t you try to catch some more sleep before your aunt gets here?”

Peter groaned. “She’s gonna be so mad.”

“She’ll be fine. I already talked to her. Though I can get legal up here to take your last will and testament if you’re really worried about it.”

That got a smile out of Peter. “I’ll leave Ned my Legos, and May can have my Spider-man stuffy.”

“What do I get?”

Peter smirked. “I could leave you my Star Wars collection, but actually, I know what I’d leave you.”

“And what’s that?”

“Something I wanted to give you for years. It’s a—it’s a drawing of Iron Man. I made it after that expo I went to—the one where you saved me.”

“The what?” Tony searched Peter’s face, trying to understand. “When?”

“I was just a kid, and Ben took me. You were there, so were, like, all these Hammer drones. One almost shot me, but you stopped it. Said—”

“Good work, kid. I remember. That was you? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Never seemed like a good time or that important, I guess. You were always looking out for me. Kinda funny, you know?”

“Yeah, kinda funny.” Tony smiled to himself.

Apparently, he’d been watching out for Peter before he even knew it, and that sure as hell wasn’t going to change. He had two kids now that needed him, and he was going to do his best to protect them from whatever life threw their way.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! I'm struggling a little for inspiration again, so ideas are welcome. Feel free to leave them in comments or on [tumblr](https://snarky-drabbles.tumblr.com/)


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